


Everything I Didn't Sign Up For

by Carter_Ash_Official



Series: Trooper Tales [2]
Category: swtor - Fandom
Genre: Havoc Squad - Freeform, Ord Mantell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: Orannus is unprepared for what Ord Mantell is all about.





	

The dropship shuddered as artillery pounded the shields.

The Mirialan on his left looked a lot greener than he had when the ship had left fleet. He turned to look at Orannus. “I don’t feel so good.”

Orannus discreetly shifted away from him and didn’t make eye contact.

The ship bucked as it entered the atmosphere. The blasts stopped.

_Thank the stars._

The dropship slowed, and Orannus felt the thud of the landing gear setting down. He undid his safety harness and slung his gear bag over his shoulder, rifle case in hand.

The Mirialan sprinted out ahead of everyone and was promptly sick in an empty fuel barrel.

Orannus followed, and hesitated at the top of the ramp, grimacing.

_This is almost as bad as Balmorra._

The sticky humidity greeted him as he thudded down the ramp.

_Is… this isn’t a Republic spaceport. It’s a warehouse. With a platform. What sort of post is this? I thought it was a promotion!_

He stared out at the sea of soldiers.

One stared back.

The mountain of a man weaved his way through to Orannus. “Sergeant Hallow?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The man had a mischievous spark in his eyes, face lined from the sun and age, and he calmly moved in his armor as if it were a second skin. “Great. With me, kid.”

_I’m twenty five. I’m not a kid._

Orannus ignored the comment on age and followed the… he leaned forward and glimpsed his rank.

Lieutenant. With an unfamiliar logo next to the patch.

He thought back to the Academy, trying to remember which units got logos. Usually the high-up, specialized squads were officially given names, and logos to go with them. This… he didn’t know.

_What did you promote me to, Madine? That letter only said to report to the fleet and get on the dropship._

“Here.” The Lieutenant pointed to a walker. “Hop on in, kid, we haven’t got all day.”

Orannus slung his bag under his seat and set his rifle next to it.

The Lieutenant took a seat next to the driver’s cabin. He knocked on the door. “All clear.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The walker started up.

Orannus tried to look like he knew what he was doing here. From what he could see, everyone on the walker outranked him.

“Ah,” the Lieutenant sighed. He leaned back and stuck his legs out. “There’s not a feeling in the galaxy like riding a one hundred ton walker right through the middle of a warzone, huh, kid?”

_I honestly don’t know._

Static crackled over the speakers. “Approaching Drelliad Village, Sir. Scopes show small-arms fire and enemy movements in all sectors. Separatists are definitely moving on the objective.”

_What’s the objective?_

That seemed like something he should already know.

The other soldiers muttered amongst themselves and traded looks.

The Lieutenant smirked. “Another beautiful day on Ord Mantell.” He glanced at Orannus and the grin shrunk a little. “You excited, kid? Nervous?”

Orannus nodded faintly.

_I didn’t sign up for… this intense stuff._

The Lieutenant grinned. “You know, you’re the first new entry into Havoc Squad for quite some time.”

_Ha-_

_Havoc._

_The Havoc Squad._

_You’re real?_

“S-Sir?” Orannus stammered. “Havoc?” His voice came out in a high octave reminiscent of a ten-year-old.

_Oh no._

“No need to call me ‘Sir’. We’re in the field, you can drop the formality.”

“Hav-Havoc Squad.”

“I see Madine’s still big on surprises.” The Lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, kid, Havoc. The big leagues.”

_Oh shit._

“What made Havoc chose to bring me in?”

_Why me? You know there’s tons of other soldiers who want this responsibility? And are better qualified?_

He shrugged. “There’s just too much happening on Ord Mantell. Guys in charge decided we need an extra pair of hands.” The man paused. “Hell, I didn’t introduce myself.” He offered Orannus a hand the size of a small moon. “I’m Lieutenant Bex Kolos, but everyone calls me Gearbox.”

“Gearbox.” Orannus repeated numbly.

“Yeah. We’re a tight unit. We’ve all got out nicknames.” Kolos glanced at him. “Yours is ‘Baby’ since you’re the baby member. It’s a tradition. You’ll get a new one once we’re done with this mission.”

_Baby._

“You’ll like it with us,” Kolos continued. He leaned forward and dropped his voice, scanning the other soldiers. “Let me tell you why we’re here. The Separatists have nabbed a Republic bomb off a downed transport.”

_A bomb._

Disbelief must’ve shown on his face, because Kolos narrowed his eyes and frowned. “A serious bomb, one of those orbital strike numbers. There’s no telling where these grimy bushwhackers have hidden the thing. They have the popular support and have hideouts everywhere. Finding this this won’t be easy.”

Orannus bleakly considered the next few weeks of hard work.

“On an op like this you don’t get much sleep.” Kolos leaned back and rested his head against the wall, eyes shut.

_A bomb._

“Wait… what are the weapon’s specs?”

_Should I write to my family? You know… in case… Boom?_

The Lieutenant didn’t open his eyes. “Good question, Baby. The bomb’s designed to slag a huge city, so it could wipe this little island right off the map.” He cracked open an obsidian eye. “You’ll get a full Op brief once we reach Fort Garnik. For now, just sit back and-”

BOOM.

The walker lurched to the right, warning sirens shrieking.

“Code red, code red.” The speakers sparked. “We’ve been hit by an AP missile! A shoulder- launcher from somewhere in the village. Everyone hold on-”

BOOM!

Orannus was slammed against the safety harness as another explosion rocked the walker. Smoke flooded into the cabin from the driver’s compartment. Ceiling panels cracked and wires dripped sparks.

“Hey, you okay?” Kolos’ face swam into view. “Yeah, you’re good.” He turned his head and coughed. “Driver!”

Silence.

“Driver?”

Orannus blinked through the smoke, eyes tearing up. His mouth tasted like ashes.

Kolos was clutching his side, face twisted with pain. Most of the other soldiers were unbuckling themselves, but a small few weren’t moving; a ceiling panel had-

_Don’t look._

“Blast it,” Kolos swore. “He’s down. Backwater Separatists aren’t supposed to have armor-piercing missiles! They’ll tear up every convoy that passes through here.”

Orannus finally untangled himself from the harness and clambered to his feet, head spinning. “What should we do, Sir?”

_I don’t want to die yet._

Kolos nudged a couple wires with the rubber heel of his boot. “Fixing things is my specialty, kid.” His voice had gone business-like, not trace of the mischievous look Orannus had glimpsed earlier. “I’m nowhere near the fighter you are.” He covered his mouth from the smoke.

_With all due respect, Sir, I’m looking at a bicep the size of my head. Can I stay and guard?_

The Lieutenant turned and pushed his way to the exit ramp. He pried the control panel off the wall and peeled the safety coating off two wires. “I’ll stay here and get this walker moving again. You’ll disable the Separatists’ missile launchers. Got it?”

_All by myself? No backup? No earpiece? No armor?!_

“Got it.” Orannus blinked and stared out at the stormy gray sky as the ramp was lowered. Fresh air washed over him.

“Kid. Hallow.” Kolos grabbed his by the shoulder. “Your rifle?”

_Rifle._

“Right.” Orannus pried open the dented case and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

_I don’t have armor. Or my sticky grenades. Or… anything._

_I’m out of my depth._

_I’m going to die._

Kolos was speaking again. “-will probably have their missile launchers piled together in a cache somewhere- And you bet that cache will be heavily guarded.” He patted Orannus’ back and sent him stumbled down the ramp. “Got it, Baby?”

_No._

“I’m on it!” Orannus gave him a thumbs up and what he hoped was a confident smile.

“Good luck out there, kid.”


End file.
